Last evening, the most Appalling and Horrific turn of events unfolded, gentle reader!
Late the morning, just after my second breakfast of fine grasses and faeces, a toady little messenger arrived at my stoop. Please do not think I am being racial, he was LITERALLY a toady little messanger. I have MANY toad friends, and would never think of using that as an epithet. *Ahem* Where was I?
The letter was printed on the most sublime stock of paper, scented just so with a hint of honeydew and marigold. It read:
Why? Why!
How I long to see you again, how my tail feathers simply tremble at the thought of your embrace. Do pop ’round the villa nearish supertime and take me for a stroll?
All my fidelity,
~ Lady J. Featherbottom
P.S. I would not be opposed to a slight trinket of jewels to demonstrate your affection!
I was beside myself with excitement at the possibilities of strolling with this lovely creature under the glow of La Lune. So I pipped off immediately to the local bank to withdraw my mother’s PRIZED pearl strand from the vault. What good, after all, are wonderful heirlooms without a lovely bird to share them with?
Well ’round 7, I pipped over to her estate. Dressed in my most impressive suit of brown cut velvet (ermine trimmed, of course) and black patent boots, I looked every bit the dashing gentleman. What my stately look did not convey, however, was that my HEART was going one million beats per second – just ready to explode at the sight of my one love.
Sir William Plumenom
But folly, folly! As I approached the gate, I saw Sir William Plumenom gently caressing my lover’s UNGLOVED wrist, before whispering in her ear. She let out the same musical laughter I thought belonged only to me, and waved him well as he took off.
From the top-floor window, I saw Duke Tendertoes surveying the scene. With a smoking pipe between his teeth, and the sash of his silk bathrobe cinched tightly, I could almost see him laughing at my predicament. I stormed off quite immediately, that hussy Featherbottom’s cries of my name wafting in the ill late-spring wind.
Oh what to do, what to make of these events?! I am simply Crestfallen and Shocked at the likelihood I’ve been cuckold!
